what happens when I drink

I vomit words

I am a person in a committed, long term relationship that I'm quite happy in but every so often I ask myself "Am I still in this because I love him or because I'm just scared that he'd do something really unspeakable if we broke up and I don't want to be responsible for that?" And then the answer is always "No, I still love him, it's cool" but then I think well what if one day the answer changes huh what the fuck then

It's weird because I think deep down I always kind of wanted a relationship like this where I feel like the other person genuinely needs me- I guess I'm just paranoid that it would become too big of a responsibility and I would crack but, again, probably just paranoia.

I guess the reason I'm even thinking about this is because I got hold of the phone number of the fuckface who shall not be named because he doesn't have his facebook privacy settings locked down, and I got a friend who's FB friends with him to give it to me and I got myself a random google voice number and have been sending him cryptic messages. To which he responds as though it's perfectly sensible that a nonsensical quasi human entity should be randomly texting him word salad at 330 in the morning, which is kind of beautiful if I'm going to be totally honest right now

Maybe that's the reason I have even the slightest small sliver of doubt about my life and my relationship as it currently stands... what I truly loved about the fuckhead was his sense of... adventure, let's call it. Because for as many times as it led him to visit me and then wander off somewhere, or disregard the most basic social conventions, or hit on my taken friends, every so often it was a flash of brilliance, like the aurora. A rare beauty. The person truly unafraid of rejection, the only person I've ever known who genuinely did not give a fuck what anyone thought, willing to try anything, to go with any stray thought that popped into that tangled brain. I hated and loved it. I hated and loved him I hate and love him present tense

That's the problem, right there. That's why I even question all the good things that have come into my life since then. He was a bad person, he did awful things to my emotions, and I know that I deserve better. But the only part of him that I 'see' right now is the beautiful part that I love, the part that gets a snippet of r/seventhworldproblems sent to him from a number he's never seen and doesn't respond with "well who the fuck is this" but rather "hmm, how intriguing, let's explore this and see where it goes".

Or perhaps he knows that it's me and I am in fact the one being long-conned, which I could definitely see happening.

I wrote a story about "us" in college, and if I should ever put pen to paper and spit out the novel that kicks around in my head I shall write another, because my life is inextricably bound with his in a way that I will never be able to explain, not with twenty books. I knew before we were even friends that our lives were somehow connected. I can still remember sitting in our computer chair after midnight and having that IM pop up from the screen name I knew was his. hello there stranger. And I sat there and panicked for a full minute wondering if I should respond or just close AOL and pretend I never got it and I thought to myself you may never get an opportunity like this again you better jump on it so I said something back and I believe now that was the nexus, the jumping-off point of my whole life, because if I had ignored him my life would be incalculably different from what it is now. So much of everything that has happened to me since then, he has somehow been responsible for.

Perhaps that's the reason I've undertaken this prank to begin with. Confession time: I really desperately want to talk to him like we used to do. I miss his perspective, even when it was off-putting. Even when I threw him out I knew it wasn't over; something about us, some shred of what we had the potential to be, will always exist. I can't accept his friend request; that would give him the wrong impression, and my friends would be furious with me (and rightly so). But I can do this, and be satisfied.

A lot of days I think maybe it would be easier to just check out. Maybe the reason I never did it isn't because it isn't right but because I'm too much of a coward.

vignette 5/16

I pre-ordered my new Evo 4G LTE the day that preorders opened. It should have shipped about five hours ago now, according to the internet. I have not received an email indicating this. Buzz on various tech websites and the sprint forums indicate that due to Apple fuckery, the phones are being held up at customs because of some patent bullshit and may not ship until the 25th, if then.

If this is true: FUCK YOU APPLE. It isn't enough that I have to update iTunes every 2 days, or that my ipod nano that I bought in 2010 is somehow worse and less intuitive than my original video ipod I got in 06, or that you have millions of hipsters in coffeehouses worldwide typing away publicly on your shit so that everyone can see how fucking cool they are. Just because I don't want your fucking phone, means I can't have the one I DO want? The guy on the forums was right, this is fucking FUBAR.

I'm already pissed that a couple of days ago amazon wireless started offering preorders $50 cheaper than what I paid. But I thought no, it's OK, I'll be sure to get mine before I get on the train to Atlanta and the boyfriend and I will have two good weeks to play with it so I can show him how great Android really is, when it isn't bound to shitty hardware like the piece of crap samsung he has. And now this. What an epic piece of bullshit this is.

I realize that this is the epitome of first world problems. But I have needed a new phone since December when a mechanical fault in my original Evo suddenly caused the media volume to constantly be on max whenever headphones are plugged in. Really, I've needed a new one since last year when the power button on my first Evo stopped working and I traded it in for a refurb. The power button works fine, but the back speaker appeared to be incomplete and the sound from it has always been tinny and distorted. For $90 a month after taxes and fees and $200 up front for the original phone, this is not the kind of shit I'd care to be dealing with ATM.

Fucking fuckers. Shit.

4am

Sometimes on nights like this when I've had a strong drink and I'm a bit loopy I think, well, maybe being an alcoholic wouldn't be so bad, if I could afford to pay for a constant supply of booze. The only trouble with it is that I'd have to pee all the time, and I hate that. I guess I could always develop a xanax habit, but the internet told me that the sedative effect wears off after a few days of consistent use.

C'est la vie.

minor confessions

I have dreams about Scott sometimes. Dreams where I feel the same way I used to about him. It fades when I wake up, but there's always a twinge of loss. Occasionally I still miss him. He was so... different from anyone else I've ever known. Not always in good ways, but finding anyone you're 100% compatible with is extremely rare.
I spend my whole life wondering what if, about countless things. I still ponder what might have become of us if he felt the same way about me that I did about him. If I would be somewhere more exciting, if he would have pushed me by now to become greater than what I am.
Not having him isn't what bothers me. It's not knowing that keeps me up at night.
Oh well. Back to the old grind.

GRATUITOUS CAPITAL LETTERS AND CURSE WORDS! ALSO EXCESSIVE PUNCTUATION!!!!!!!!!

I kept this as my super secret blog that very few people know about for a reason. Haven't had any super secret things to discuss for a long time so I thought maybe it was pointless to keep, but I was wrong. RANTING AND RAVING TIME IS NAO

RICKERT FUCKING POKED ME ON FACEBOOK WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!

I know him. I know him so fucking well. He was so 'unpredictable' that it became the height of predictability and he hasn't changed the slightest bit. From this one tiny action I can tell you exactly where he is and what he's doing and what he's thinking about. Just like in high school. Whenever he initiated conversation it would always be this hour of the night. Probably he's watching porn, or just finished doing so. I don't know what it is that makes him think of me. Maybe no one else is awake now. Maybe it's my own fault... it always used to be that he would get in touch with me right after I'd think of him and I did have a fleeting wonder about his circumstances the other day so perhaps he's psychic and I brought it on myself... it's a good thing I don't use my AIM anymore or I can guarantee he would have tried to IM me. Don't ask me how I know, I just know. I always knew when it was about to happen.

The why is what I never understood with him. I have no idea what goes on in that brain of his. I tried for many years to decipher that code but it was a futile effort. I would ask why now, but that isn't the question. The question is, why at all? Why can't scumbags from your past have the common fucking courtesy to STAY THERE? Because I know this, too- if I was to respond to him he would carry on like nothing ever happened between us. "Oh hey old friend, what's going on? Nope, I never kissed you on your dorm room couch at 4 in the morning then told you I just wanted to stay friends and had been leading you on and mindfucking you about this for months. Never used you to get away from the military base and hook up with college chicks, never broke your heart in the cruelest way possible when I knew how you felt about me. Never made you want to jump off the eighth floor of E-haus. Gosh it's been awhile, let's catch up!" HELL to the NO.

And you're getting all of this from a single poke on facebook? Aren't you reading too much into it? No, no I'm not. Because the other side of it is, he knows me, too. Knows exactly how I overreact to things and how shit like this will send me right into a frenzy. We have a history, and that history means something. This isn't innocent. When you tell someone DON'T TALK TO ME ANYMORE I NEVER WANT TO FUCKING SEE YOU EVER AGAIN and three years later they poke you on facebook... he didn't just fucking FORGET.

Ultimately this means nothing because I'm just going to ignore the poke and continue pretending he doesn't exist. I just needed to scream into the void about it, since I lack the courage to find out where he lives and egg his car.

Fucker.

fin